


this could be paradise (she said, i know the sun must set to rise)

by sindubu



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, I'm Going to Hell, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sindubu/pseuds/sindubu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nayeon, Momo, new student Mina and co, in their final year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm calling them namomi because idk if they have a ship name yet, and the title is taken from the coldplay song, lapslock because idk, aesthetic
> 
> if you need me i'll be at church, stay in school kids

It’s a typical Friday night and Momo is late even by her usual standards.

She's been on her feet all day and really doesn't want to be in heels right now, but once she gets past the landing to where everyone else is, she knows she's made the right choice.

“Moguri,” an arm comes around her shoulder, “glad you could make it. Still gay?”

She pushes the broad chest it belongs to, but doesn’t shake off him off completely. “Fuck off,” she greets, friendly as she tilts her head up to look at him. In an alternate universe, maybe. “I’m surprised you aren’t already in the bedroom.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, obviously,” Mark says, and this time she does shove him off.

“I need a bathroom, you’re testing my gag reflex.”

The boy grins. “The closest one is occupied, I was just in there,” he wipes under his nose, sniffling, eyes shiny under the lights. Mark raises his eyebrows. “Unless you want a go...?”

Momo thinks about it. Mark always does have the best at his parties -- the good stuff, not the shit mixed with chalk or other additives -- but shakes her head. Not tonight. “Show me the drinks?”

He gestures her toward the kitchen, no less busy than the main room, or the outside pool by the looks of it. Momo glances out the glass sliding panels that overlook the Tuan estate, perched on the tallest point of a hill so that the city landscape is viewable. It’s beautiful.

“Looking for someone?” Mark asks, heavy handed with the alcohol as he mixes her drink. There’s a reason they’re friends outside the overlapping social circles they're in.

“Momo.”

Her eyes flicker toward ash gray hair and a pouty smile. Momo swallows the mouthful of rum and coke she’d taken and straightens. The color is new; the last time she’d seen the other girl it has been a deep chestnut brown, soft every time she’d threaded it through her fingers. She wonders if the dye did any damage, if it still feels the way it used to.

“Sana-yah,” Momo greets her ex. “How was Paris?”

“Just right. The holiday villa is exactly what I needed before the school year starts,” she pauses for a bit, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I missed summer practices, though. I hope it won’t be that big a problem.”

“Shouldn't be,” Momo wants to assure her better than that, but she's only co-captain and her word isn't the one that's final. “Everyone has to try out again first week anyway, so as long as you're still able to tumble and do the lifts, you'll be fine.”

Sana gives her a look. “I’m as flexible as you need me to be.”

Mark coughs, spilling beer down his front and Momo is half-glad for the interruption. “What are you, twelve?” she teases him, “I should be the one blushing but you look like you're about to bust a nut.”

“Who’s blushing?”

Momo stares down at the red cup in her hands, polishing it off to give her a few seconds before facing the owner of the voice. Her body is already turning before she even sets her drink down by the counter, though, and Momo lifts her eyebrows at her best friend and the boy behind her.

“Jackson-ah,” Momo decides to say hi to him first, “you have Nayeon’s lipstick on you.”

A few more people gather around to join them, and Momo looks over them each one by one. Her ears perk at Nayeon’s soft sigh and her eyes snap to the girl’s. Rose blooms against the apples of her cheeks and Momo can see her breathing is a little uneven. 

“You, by the way,” she answers, a little late, taking the shot because she can. She doesn't want Sana to annoy Nayeon any more than her presence already has, and if anyone can make jabs at the raven haired girl and come out of it alive, it's her. “I guess Jackson figured out his little problem.”

“Yah,” complains Jackson, and Momo adds: “Sorry. I meant _premature.”_

“Cold,” Mark laughs, earning a glare from his own best friend as Nayeon reaches back to squeeze his hand consolingly. 

“You should've texted me when you got here,” Nayeon frowns a little.

“I got caught up,” Momo tells her, a white lie that isn't _I was waiting for you._ It's worth it when she sees Nayeon glance briefly in Sana’s direction. Her knees feel a little weak when something in her expression darkens.

Nayeon announces: “Let’s play a game.”

“King's Cup,” Mark casts his vote first, slapping his palms against the counter.

“Strip poker,” one of the girls on the squad, Jeongyeon, suggests, nudging her way to the front of the small crowd they've amassed. She flips her fringe out of her eyes. “Nayeon didn’t make us do all that core work during the summer for nothing.”

“Truth or dare,” Nayeon declares instead, Momo’s stomach fluttering in anticipation. It feels like a frenzy of butterflies, but there’s a buzzing, too, that begins flowing through her veins. She nudges Mark and gestures him to make her another drink.

“I change my mind,” she mumbles just loud enough for Nayeon to hear, “you're the twelve year old here.”

Nayeon only smiles. “I’ll start,” she says, and without preamble, “Momo. Truth or dare?”

And looking at her, Momo just can’t tell what's going to come out of her mouth either way. She can feel Sana beside her, pressed against her shoulder with the excuse of how crowded the party is, and looks at Nayeon across the counter. 

“Truth,” she ends up saying, waiting for the sword to fall because Nayeon has always been greedy ever since they were children. Since Momo’s mother and Nayeon’s father invested in the same start up company only to tear it down from the inside. It had threatened business. Momo remembers Nayeon taking her by the hand even then, always getting them both in trouble.

She has never complained. But still, still, when Nayeon delivers her next words with a cunningness that could outsmart the devil, Momo squirms.

“Truth - when was the last time you had sex? And how many times did you come?”

That's two questions, she wants to argue, but it doesn’t really matter. Momo knows she’s screwed - literally and figuratively, exactly where Nayeon wants her.

“Two days ago,” mutters Momo.

“Sorry, you need to be a bit louder.”

“Two days ago,” Momo reveals to the group, raising her voice, keeping her eyes trained on Nayeon and the way her mouth curls. She crosses one ankle over the other, ignoring the heat that begins to build low in her belly. Embers, for now. “And three times.”

It works. Among the catcalls and wolf whistles, Momo feels Sana step back, distancing herself. There’s a twinge of guilt - Momo is fond of Sana, she really is - but when they had broken up before summer vacation, there had been no promises to getting back together. Her fingers flex against her cup, now full again, and she takes a long pull before she starts.

“My turn,” Momo says coolly, evenly, “Truth or dare, Nayeon-sshi?”

“Truth,” the cheer captain replies, and Momo nods.

“How many times did Jackson make you come just now?” she asks, because for all the ways Momo will bend backwards for her best friend, pliant and willing and needy, if she's honest, she knows how to push back.

Nayeon breaks out into a smile, more radiant than the sun and Momo grins back.

“Just once. Sort of," she admits amongst the laughter that bursts out between all their friends and her boyfriend's squawks. Momo holds her arms out open for a hug and and Nayeon slugs her in the shoulder before receiving it, laughing, too.

The game continues from there. It never really stops, even when it does for everyone else. Not between them.

\--

“Did you mean it?”

The question comes out more breathless than Momo meant for it to, labored under the fault of the hands pressing against her sides, over the flat planes of her stomach. She can barely see anything in the dark, can barely see Nayeon other than the pink of her lips and the brown of her eyes. Momo’s glad Mark has so many extra bedrooms.

“What?” Nayeon is out of breath, too, and she tastes like those mint candies she keeps stocked in her purse, and scotch, a blend of sweet and bitter that make Momo’s lips tingle every time they kiss. 

“Earlier,” Momo says, voice trembling when Nayeon lowers her mouth and swirls her tongue over a nipple. She pulls at the button on Nayeon’s shorts, but the girl bats her hands away and she makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat. Nayeon doesn’t have to ask for an explanation for Momo to know she needs one. 

That doesn’t make it any less difficult, considering her thoughts are hazy at best and honestly, even Momo has to concentrate for a second to remember what she was trying to get at. 

“During truth or dare,” sighs Momo, weak when Nayeon latches onto the spot below her ear next, a silent _thank you,_ “when Mark asked us to kiss and you said you’d had better afterwards.”

It had barely been more than a peck - their peers wonder about the two of them, of course, though no one wants to risk their lives enough to gossip, at least in front of them - but Nayeon had pulled away first after sucking on her lower lip, eyes dark and promising.

They’re here now, together, away from everyone else with nothing to distract Nayeon from making her feel good and vice versa, but Momo is more sensitive with these things. _Soft,_ Nayeon had called her before, teasing but truthful, too.

Nayeon’s hands pause against her thighs after hiking Momo’s skirt up. She noses her jaw and covers Momo’s mouth with her own, gentle. 

“No,” Nayeon tells her in the dark where Momo can barely see her but can feel her everywhere. And she believes her, believes in her because they’re two sides of the same coin and Momo is a romantic who can’t think of anything greater than sharing everything she has with her best friend, with Nayeon.

“No, baby,” and Nayeon’s fingers are sliding inside, her head falling back against the mattress and Momo just thinks about how didn’t even have to say please this time. She cries out a decibel too loud even given with music still playing outside when Nayeon touches her clit with her thumb, bringing her fist to her mouth to bite down.

Nayeon looks at Momo like a painting, like a work of art made by her own hands with careful strokes and brushes. There is poetry, Momo swears, in how Nayeon worships her like this despite all the jokes she makes about the other girl being a queen.

“You’re so pretty,” mutters Nayeon, always adoring even in dirty talk that has Momo's hips jerking to match her movements, “God, Momo.”

“It’s Hirai, actually,” Momo teases through her fist, muffling another moan when Nayeon curves her fingers. 

“Smartass,” she chastises. Momo is about to make another comment but Nayeon speeds up and instead she starts whimpering the other girl’s name. “Next time,” Nayeon promises, circling a bundle of nerves that has Momo thanking every deity that Nayeon is making this quick, or at the very least not bringing her to the edge before holding back, only to do it again until Momo is begging for release. It’s high on the list of ways Nayeon likes to screw her.

“Next time I’ll fuck you somewhere you can say my name as loud as you want,” Nayeon hums against her mouth and Momo’s back arches as she comes, chasing her kiss as white flashes behind her eyes. Nayeon strokes her through it, murmuring sweet words until Momo pushes her hand away and Nayeon is sliding until she’s hovering over her face. She’s soaking.

She’ll die this way, one day, she’s sure, but Momo doesn’t care. Nayeon has always been fatal when others are bold enough to come close. Momo has always been closest, Icarus on a path to destruction the closer she gets, but she’s flying and if this is the way she goes, she has no regrets.

\--

They only have the weekend until the first day of school and the start to their last year, and Momo has mixed feelings about the summer drawing to a close. Momo likes summer - likes that the sun rises earlier and sets later, the days longer and everything that comes with it from sugary, fried fair food to trips to the beach that make her find sand in the pockets of her clothes even after they're washed.

Nayeon spends Saturday with Jackson so Momo spends hers at home, working out in their personal gym and reading from a dog eared anthology that her sister had nearly thrown out after finishing her literature course at university. Enough elaborate meals to feed a small army weighs down the table in the dining room come dinner time - an annual Hirai special occasion, before Momo begins school and her sister jets off to another country because, well, why _not_ study abroad? 

She tries on her new uniform to see if it fits, and then her cheer one just because. She’ll miss summer for another reason - being able to spend her days in cut off shorts and muscle tees or really, anything, instead of starched collars and ties.

By Sunday, Nayeon has gotten her driver to take her to Momo’s before she's even gotten out of bed, so she sees no point in pretending to want to be anywhere else.

“Momo-yah,” whines Nayeon, when Momo is sprawled on her stomach reading on her bed instead of paying attention to her. In truth, Momo isn’t ignoring her - she’s happy just to be next to her, to feel her warmth beside her and occasionally look up from a page to see her bathed in a glow from the sunlight coming in from her windows. “You have the whole year to read.”

“A piece by J. D. Salinger, to be controversial,” Momo deadpans, the exact words her junior English teacher used to introduce The Catcher in the Rye last year, “or Neruda, who was actually a huge asshole, did you know that?”

Nayeon matches her look. “No, but I'm sure you could tell me,” she reaches for the backpack she’d brought with her, unzipping it and digging through the contents. “Take your shirt off.”

“Can it wait until -- ” All Nayeon does is lift an eyebrow and Momo sighs a little, but she’s not complaining as she complies. She tugs her top over her head and follows when the dark haired girl adds, “Bra, too.”

“Lie down,” she instructs, pressing a hand lightly into Momo’s back before swinging a leg over, straddling her from behind. “Relax, nerd, you can keep reading,” she teases, fingers skimming along her back, kneading after she tucks Momo's hair over her shoulder. Nayeon is giving her a massage.

Momo does just that, content even as her eyes droop and she can no longer focus on the writing in front of her. She tries to reread the same line three times when something cold and wet drops onto her spine. She jumps and, expectedly, Nayeon laughs at her, but she also stops her from rising up from her lying position.

“Stay still,” Nayeon scolds her, but she’s amused. Momo obeys, but she can't concentrate anymore on her reading and just trusts her. She closes her eyes, smile tugging at her lips when something soft glides against her back and she realizes. It tickles a little but Momo does her best not to squirm. 

“Since when was I,” she wonders out loud, “a walking canvas?” And then: “Are you going to get paint on my new sheets?”

“Yah,” laughs Nayeon, pinching her side to make her yelp and be a brat, probably. “I won’t! And yes, as a matter of fact, you are.” Her brush dips along smooth skin, dotted with the occasional freckle but otherwise clear. She’s careful not to get paint on her hair when she leans down for a moment, just to press a kiss against Momo’s shoulder.

“Inspire me,” she requests softly, dropping the _you_ that’s meant to be at the beginning of the sentence. She thinks Momo understands anyway. 

She hums, giving it thought. Momo knows she could quote anything - Finding Dory, even - and Nayeon would be fine, laugh, and make art of it. That’s the kind of person her best friend is. Nayeon paints and she does her best to find the words that describe what her art makes her feel - what Nayeon makes her feel. Momo releases a breath.

_"I made / this place for you. A place for you to love me. / If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is."_

She gets paint on the sheets, but Momo doesn’t mind because Nayeon gives her summer on her skin, gives her a sunrise with oranges and yellows over a grassy field of sunflowers - they've always reminded her of Momo.

\--

She is _so_ late.

Honestly, if Momo texts her _??? where r u? second bell just rang and jackson told me you didn’t meet him for breakfast,_ she's undeniably _fucked_ on being punctual. And on the first day of school, no less.

Her phone vibrates in her lap again.

_also, we have a couple new kids. and a new ap lit teacher, apparently. im jinah. i want to have her children_

Nayeon texts her boyfriend first, a quick _i’m sorry, overslept ): <3_ before replying to Momo.

_doesn’t sound familiar but i’ll take your word for it. did you save me a seat?_

_assigned seating ): ): ):_

She sighs, and her driver looks at her in the rear view mirror. She waves him off, and he probably thinks she’s just irritated to be late, because Nayeon notices the lines against the pavement blur by and before she knows it they’ve pulled up to the academy gates. 

Nayeon hurries off with a _thank you_ thrown over her shoulder, ducking inside and hurrying down the halls until she’s at classroom B-19 and pulls at the handle, opening the door to enter inside.

“Sorry,” Nayeon bows low to the teacher - a gorgeous brunette that warranted Momo’s admiration - before scanning the class. 

Momo sits at the front - something she’s probably pleased with - and notes a girl with long, deep red hair seated next to her. One of the new meat, Nayeon figures before turning back to their teacher, indifferent.

She apologizes again, just to show she’s genuinely remorseful about it, and Miss Jinah (unmarried - Momo will love that) directs her to her seat. Nayeon is placed in the middle, almost toward the back. Someone passes her a syllabus and she flips through it idly, only half paying attention to the grading scale and required reading.

She looks up only when Miss Jinah says they're doing an icebreaker for the first day for the remainder of class. 

“Pair up with two other people,” she announces, stepping back to rest against her desk. Nayeon thinks she can hear Momo’s brain short circuit from here. “At least one that you don't know, and learn something about them. After a few minutes, we’ll all go around and you’ll introduce each other.”

The classroom soon erupts into noise when she dismisses them, and Nayeon is already out of her seat and slinging her bag over the back of the desk chair closest to Momo, dragging it over. They form a triangle with a third, the red haired girl Momo sits next to. Her friend shoots her a smile.

“Hey,” grins Momo, gesturing to the stranger, “I was telling new girl here the boring stuff. Hirai Industries, older sister, co-captain of the cheer squad and often found being bullied by you.”

The girl furrows her eyebrows, politely confused as Nayeon sits down, snorting at the introduction she’s been given. 

“Im Nayeon,” she greets, “Im Enterprises, only child, captain of the cheer squad.” She sticks out her hand, and the girl accepts. Her handshake is firm. Good, Nayeon thinks. She hates lazy handshakes.

“Myoui Mina,” she introduces herself, “Um. I moved here from Kobe, Japan. I have an older brother and a dog.”

“Myoui,” repeats Nayeon, mentally tracing back into the recesses of her head to see if the family name rings any bells. Her father owns the chain of hotels Park Jihyo's father manages. “Is that from - ”

“No,” Mina interrupts, clearly bemused, “whatever company or firm you're thinking of, no. My father’s a police officer and my mother teaches ballet.”

Momo perks up. “You dance?”

Mina looks startled, but pleased. “Sort of,” she admits, hair falling into her face. Messy. Nayeon doesn’t like messy. “I did ballet for awhile growing up, but it’s nothing special.”

“So you're on scholarship?” presses Nayeon, and Mina gives her a look at that, not quite a glare but not friendly, either. There’s an unspoken meaning to her words easily translated - _so you're poor._

“That's right,” answers Mina, a little stiffly. “I suppose everyone at this school has had a trust fund since birth?”

“Only the ones that amount to anything,” Nayeon shoots back, sugar sweet in her smile. It’s a lie - she’d all but adopted Son Chaeyoung last year when the girl was a freshman, and she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. But Mina doesn’t have to know that. 

_“Her voice is full of money.... The inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals' song of it,”_ Mina recites softly, fixing Nayeon with a look she can't describe as anything else but searching. _“High in a white palace, the king's daughter, the golden girl.”_

“F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Momo appraises.

“Yes,” Nayeon snaps, “we all read The Great Gatsby.”

“Okay, everyone,” Miss Jinah calls them to attention, and the stare off between them is mutually broken. The air, however, remains heavy and tense, with Momo glancing at the two with curious consideration. “Who would like to go first? Any volunteers?”

Mina’s hand shoots up in the air at the same time as Nayeon’s.

“Great,” she gestures the three forward to the front of the class. Momo moves to stand between them. 

“Hirai Momo,” Mina begins, before either of them can and Nayeon is actually rendered speechless for a moment, “is the heir to Hirai Industries. She has an older sister and is on the cheer squad here as co-captain.” She looks beside her at Momo, good natured as she finishes. “And she knows her novelists from the Jazz Age.”

The class claps courteously, Momo included. She clears her throat and glances at Nayeon.

“Im Nayeon is my best worst friend,” she jokes, and the class chuckles after her. Miss Jinah motions for her to continue and Momo nods, grinning. “Her dad runs Im Enterprises and the world couldn’t handle another one of her, so she’s an only child. She’s cheer captain and kicks ass at it.”

Applause for Momo’s introduction of her gets a louder response, and Nayeon waits for it to subside before she steps forward and plasters a smile on her face, forcing the other two out of her periphery. 

“Myoui Mina is one of our transfers this year. She’s from Kobe, Japan and she has an older brother and a pet dog,” Nayeon waits a beat, “and she’s trying out for the cheer squad today during auditions, which are being held every day this week after school in the gym.” She smiles. “I encourage anyone else who wants to try out to come out and do so. Auditions are open to the public, so feel free to watch, too.”

She turns, hands clasped at the front of her pleated skirt and stares directly at Mina head on. The girl has the appearance of a deer in headlights, but she recovers quickly and smiles shyly at their reception as Miss Jinah attempts to pluck another trio out from the class to go next.

To her credit, Mina doesn’t approach her again until the bell rings, signaling them to second period, and the red haired girl leans over her desk, eyes solemn and jaw set.

“What was that about?” she demands.

Nayeon picks up her bag and pushes a hand through her hair before looking her way. 

“What's wrong, new kid?” asks Nayeon in response, “You dance, right?” Without waiting for an answer, she leans in, fastening the second to last button of Mina’s collared shirt and sliding her tie upwards. She can see the girl’s throat bob as she swallows, but Mina doesn’t step back. She’s stubborn, even if Nayeon’s got her on edge.

“You were breaking dress code,” she informs her, stepping back and smirking. 

“Welcome to JYP International, Myoui Mina.”

\--

“Music?”

Momo keeps her eyes trained on the sign up sheet in front of her. She feels more than sees the sigh and subsequent look that’s being thrown her way from the girl in front of them. 

_“Heartburn,”_ she says, turning from the iPod dock set up that connects to the speakers.

“Alicia Keys,” Nayeon comments came dryly, under her breath, "Original. Like the last three girls didn't pick _Girl on Fire._ " Momo shoots her a panicked look and her friend heaves a sigh that makes it seem like she’s exhausted at Momo’s incompetence at dealing with potentially awkward situations. Nayeon leans into her mic. The judges’ table, in theory, should include their coach, but the woman is assumingly on maternal leave and honestly, they’ve got it covered.

“Whenever you're ready, Sana.”

The music takes a few seconds to begin playing, but when it does, Sana is ready. This isn’t one of their older routines, and it isn’t something she’s ever seen before anywhere else, either. The other girl must have been doing something in Paris outside vacationing, Nayeon observes.

She scribbles a note onto her clipboard. Beside her, Momo watches as though it physically hurts her. 

“Fix your expression,” Nayeon reprimands out of the corner of her mouth, haughty as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. Despite what it seems like, she doesn’t have anything against Sana. The Osaka native is hardworking and intelligent, sweet faced but sharp, too. She hasn’t forgotten the way Sana had torn into the freshmen recruits last year for not knowing their starting positions.

If Momo hadn’t fucked her first, she might have, truthfully speaking. 

She allows Sana to finish - a good sign, considering Nayeon doesn't hesitate to raise a hand to stop auditions halfway when she doesn’t want to suffer through any more inadequacy than necessary. It's only the first round of tryouts. All hopefuls have to do is show they can keep a beat. The mechanics of cheering come later, during the second round. JYP International Academy’s cheer squad, more or less, doubles as a dance team.

Sana bows after she’s finished, already reaching to unplug her phone at the iPod dock. Nayeon pulls the mic close.

“Sana-sshi?”

The senior looks up, eyes wide. Such an innocent face, Nayeon thinks, betrayed by all she's heard about her secondhand.

“I expect you to actually follow along to squad diets before Nationals this year,” Nayeon arches a brow, “You and Moguri were always the worst culprits.”

Sana’s eyes flicker to Momo for a second, but she smiles, criticism rolling off her shoulders. Anyone who’s been on the squad with Nayeon knows to read between the lines for compliments, and Nayeon has all but guaranteed her spot back on the team.

“Isn't that against the rules?” a voice cuts in. Sana furrows her eyebrows at the girl approaching the floor next, but Nayeon waves her off and beckons Mina to take her place.

“You pretty much told her she had it,” Mina makes her point, squaring her jaw as she inspects them both - like she’s here to appraise them and not the other way around.

“I make the rules around here,” Nayeon remarks swiftly, glancing down at the sign up sheet and then up at her. “You’re not on the list. But we have an audience with us today and I’m feeling generous.” She inclines her head to the bleachers behind her, where the rest of auditioning students wait as well as observers.

Mina shrugs. “I thought I made my announcement pretty clear in Lit class this morning.”

Momo coughs into her fist, and Nayeon doesn't have to look sideways to know she's eyeing the all black one piece Mina is wearing. There are slits cut into the sides, exposing milky white skin and it’s no ballerina outfit, that's for sure. 

“Music?” she asks.

"Beyoncé," Mina answers with a smile before toeing off her flats, turning to the dock and plugging in a small iPod nano. Nayeon meets Momo’s eyes for a split second before cutting back to the floor, shifting in her seat.

And honestly, if Nayeon had thought Mina would audition - she half expected she wouldn't show at all - with something that wasn’t a classic ballet piece, the last song she would guess is _Drunk In Love._

“Holy shit,” Momo mutters, and Nayeon can’t exactly disagree. Not when Mina’s body curves the way it does in time with the music, or when she throws looks every so often back to the judges’ table between the two of them. Confidence exudes from her, but more than that - the reason Nayeon can’t look away other than the obvious - she has charisma. She has it in spades.

Nayeon swears when Mina gyrates against the floor.

She ends in a standing pose, arms crossed and staring up at them with messy hair and a shadow of a smirk on her mouth. The crowd has exploded with cheers - Mina’s audition the most exciting thing to happen all day, probably - but she doesn't take her eyes off them, and neither they.

If Nayeon presented her with the board, Mina, she realizes, learns the game fast. She figures it out as soon as Mina picks up her shoes and her iPod, giving a low, sweeping bow to the two of them before she walks out - but not before she says something to Nayeon, drowned out in the noise the rest of the audience is making. It doesn’t matter. Nayeon can read lips and Mina had only uttered a single word:

_Check._

\--

It’s Friday night again and Momo shuffles her papers, reading off the next name that appears in her notes.

“Kim Dahyun.” She looks up from her spot on Nayeon’s bed. “She’s new. Her mother is a Supreme Court Justice in Korea.”

Nayeon searches for her copy of the girl's transfer file. “Father?”

“Died of heart failure a couple years back,” replies Momo, “Rumor was he had just a little too much blow. Should warn Mark.”

“Mmm,” offers Nayeon noncommittally, “I liked her. Good decision to choose Pentatonix’s cover of _La La Latch,_ it worked for the choreo. What do you think?”

Her co-captain gives pause. “Decent,” she settles on, “okay execution, but she knows what works for her. The audience went insane when she smiled. We’re low on sophomores, too.”

“I want to see her again,” Nayeon decides, glancing over. “There’s enough potential. She’s a pass to the second round for me.”

“Me, too.”

They give passes to half of the next dozen names they read off the signup sheet, comparing school files to individual notes and putting it to a vote. When one of them disagrees with the other, they talk it out until they can come to a final decision. Momo knows Nayeon has final say, ultimately, but Nayeon’s never not taken her opinion into account when it matters.

She teases Momo when they reach Sana’s name, slyly suggesting opening up a second choreographer role since for the past couple years, it's all been mostly Momo’s work and Nayeon’s suggestions. It takes less than a minute for them to discuss her audition and add her name to the pass list for second rounds.

“Myoui Mina,” Momo reads next, lifting a brow and hmming a bit. “Well, you can’t say she doesn't know how to make an entrance.” She looks over her shoulder at Nayeon. “That plan backfired, didn’t it?”

Nayeon allows a scowl to paint itself on her lips. The new girl had become the talk of the day - the week, even - and had far from humiliated herself the moment she’d performed in front of the majority of the student body, and at minimum the entirety of their senior class. She’d impressed them. And her.

“She's good,” admits Nayeon grudgingly, “too good not to pass to the second round.”

Momo laughs. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” she taunts playfully, reaching over to scribble the girl’s name onto the list. “I'm sure it’ll be fine. She may not even pass,” adds Momo, but Nayeon knows she’s just trying to placate her. Apart from breaking her leg between now and then (she can only hope), Mina would be making it onto the cheer squad without a doubt.

Nayeon tosses her notebook aside and grabs Momo by the collar of her shirt, wrinkling the button down the second she fists a hand into it to pull her close. _Fuck it._

“I take that as a no, we're not going to Jinyoung's party tonight?” Momo only grins, tilting her head to give her access. Nayeon seems to change her mind at the last minute, flattening her palm against her abs and pushing her down, bracketing her hips with her legs.

Momo’s okay with this, too, hands wandering up and down the skin of Nayeon’s thighs. The girl is warm, and Momo can feel heat press over her and she sighs, dragging her nails lightly. 

“That depends,” answers Nayeon coyly, voice low and husky like it gets whenever she wants something, when they both know Momo is willing to give her anything. “Can you do something for me?”

“I aim to please,” she says, and it must be the right answer because Nayeon lays over her, chest to chest, lips drawing a path from her jawline to her ear. Nayeon is wearing too many clothes, she decides, holds back the noise that builds in her throat when Nayeon tugs on an earlobe with her teeth.

“Get close to the new kid,” she hums into Momo’s ear, the close vibration making her shiver. “I haven’t decided what I want to do with her yet, but I want to play.” 

Nayeon sounds like a child asking for particular toy for Christmas, pouty and honey dripping from her tone, and it shoots a flare of heat into Momo's stomach, sparking, igniting.

“Why,” Momo angles her head slightly to look at her, witness the way Nayeon’s eyes are almost black with lust. It’s killing her, too, not to touch her yet where she wants, “would I want to skip out on Jinyoung’s party again?” Nayeon'’s gaze intensifies, if possible.

“Because I have sound proof walls,” Nayeon answers her, loosening Momo’s tie with one swift movement and unfastening the buttons to her shirt. When Momo reaches up to help, she busies her hands with her own skirt, sliding down the zipper at the side. “And I vaguely remember making a promise about letting you scream as loud as you want.”

It’s not an offer Momo knows how to refuse.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the quote momo reads to nayeon is by richard siken, a gay poet (: tbh i have no idea what this is or the next time i'll update but all comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this what your world looks like, Hirai Momo? Not nearly as pretty up close than from far away?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> namomi? namimo? mimoyeon? nobody knows.
> 
> i'd say something witty but honestly i'm just glad i updated. you're more than welcome to leave a comment here or twitter to tell me what you think, every time someone comments a part of my youth that was taken away writing this is restored

She meets Mark's eye roll with a perfectly timed one of her own. _She's your best friend,_ he tells her with just a look.  
  
_He's yours,_ she answers with an arched brow. Mark sighs quietly, his lips colored a cherry red by the artificial dye on the lollipop he rolls over his tongue. _Fair._  
  
"You've looked through, like, sixty catalogues already," complains Jackson again, as though saying so would motivate her into decisiveness.  
  
The number is closer to a half dozen or so since lunch started, Momo thinks, turning a page in her anthology with one hand and reaching for her sparkling water with the other.  
  
"And I'll look through sixty more if that's what it takes," Nayeon doesn't even look up, perfectly composed down to every fold in her uniform. "A dress is a statement, Jackson."  
  
They continue to go back and forth. Mark rests his chin on his palm, turning back to Momo. This time, he raises his eyebrows at her.  
  
"If you're late picking me up," she answers, skimming over a Frost poem, "I'll fuck your sister on every available surface in your room."  
  
She reaches over to pull the lollipop out of his mouth for herself. Mark even asking her in his own way to the upcoming school dance together was more of a formality than anything else.  
  
He'd make a great trophy husband, Momo thinks, everything else other than his face aside.  
  
"I just don't understand why you need something shipped from who fucking cares when you could, like, have it custom made." Jackson tousles his hair, almost a silvery blonde in the light. "And tell me what color so I can order your corsage, like, soon. Homecoming isn't so far away.”  
  
Nayeon actually looks up from the glossy pages, angling herself toward him. She cups her hands over his cheeks, pushing them together.  
  
"A custom dress," she says slowly, smiling, her eyes sparkling, "I didn't even think of it. I knew you had a brain in there somewhere."  
  
"I got knocked over during practice the other day so I wasn't sure, thanks," he sneers, still softening when she presses a quick kiss to his lips. "Speaking of, I wanted to use part of lunch to go to the weight room. I'll see you later?"  
  
Nayeon hums in affirmation, tugging him by his blazer for another kiss in goodbye. Momo glances over at Mark, muttering a _"fucking finally, dude,"_ under his breath. He swings his sports bag over his shoulder bumps her fist in goodbye, aiming a punch to Jackson's arm as they walk off together.  
  
"So we're pregaming at Mark's?" asks Nayeon, and Momo switches her gaze to look across the table at her.  
  
"Don't we always?" Momo asks back in kind, one cheek puffed out with her candy. Nayeon's eyes wash over her, like she expects something that isn't there. "What?"  
  
"I just thought you'd use the dance as an opportunity for a means to an end," Nayeon looks more curious than disappointed, which surprises her a little. She knows she isn't mad, certainly. An upset Nayeon is easy enough to spot.  
  
Still, Momo scoffs. "You can just say it," she suggests. "you think I'm being slow. Also," she inclines her head toward Nayeon's food, abandoned earlier in favor of catalogues. "Eat your lunch."  
  
Nayeon's gaze warms at that, and Momo meets it for a brief second before dropping her eyes to her book again, even if she can't quite focus on the words in front of her.  
  
"I think you're taking your time," she says, after a beat, in a manner Momo knows is trying not to offend. Rarely used and only for special occasions. "You never take this long."  
  
"You never order me to seduce anyone," Momo points out, a touch amused. Nayeon catches the slightest lilt in her tone and grins. "The last girl you didn't personally dismantle yourself was Suzy in sophomore year." Those were interesting times, she reflects, when the school was a battleground for the warfare between the top two contenders for who would be cheer captain after Yeeun unnie graduated.  
  
"Technically, I didn't tell you to seduce her," Nayeon edges, Momo shooting her a look a second later. "Okay, semantics. I know." She picks at an apple slice with her fingers, crunching down on the fruit.  
  
"A reminder for you: being known as your right hand comes with not only its privileges but its infamy," Momo says mildly, biting down on the lollipop. It splinters into pieces in her mouth, sticking to her back teeth. "If you hadn't made your disapproval of Mina so obvious from the first day, maybe I wouldn't have my work cut out for me."  
  
Her best friend pouts a little. "So it's my fault?"  
  
"That she may as well be wearing a chastity belt that says: 'Im Nayeon and associates not welcome?'" Momo offers her a shrug. "I mean, yeah, probably."  
  
Nayeon leans forward. "You can do it, though. And besides," her voice low and smoother than crushed velvet, "you don't mind being my right hand, do you?"  
  
Before she has a chance to reply, the other girl's phone rings against the table, and Nayeon slides back to her seat after glancing at the number with a furrowed brow. Her expression seals itself off around thirty seconds in, but Momo knows Nayeon, knows even frozen like a statue, her eyes give her away. After a few curt exchanges, she hangs up and Momo looks at her with a frown.  
  
"What's wrong?"

  
  
  
  
  


"Chaeyoung-ah, a word?"  
  
She watches the other girls take notice as the sophomore gets up and nods her head in a short bow that the rest of the entire JV squad wouldn't dare try. Nayeon is really too transparent with her favorites. Momo switches her gaze over to the girls caught staring, pleased when they hurriedly look away and continue stretching.  
  
"A favor for me is a favor for Nayeon," Momo cuts straight to the point when the younger girl stands in front of her. She explains what she needs, adding, “You’ll be discreet, won't you?” It should go without saying, but she's overestimated rookies before and their stupidity could be something else sometimes.

Chaeyoung, to her credit, just nods. “Consider it done,” the girl answers smoothly, before tilting her head and asking, “Where is Nayeon, anyway?”

There's a flash of annoyance that briefly crosses her face, but Momo hides it well. It's a fair question - Nayeon almost never misses practice, never uses her status as a means to slack off instead of maintain power. Regardless, she knows the other girls will talk if she doesn't nip it in the bud.

“She had an appointment to make,” she offers breezily, crooking her fingers as she motions the other girl to follow her across the gym. At the end of the wall, she zips open her sports bag, taking a sleek black card out of the inside of her wallet.

Momo takes Chaeyoung’s wrist, palm side up, and presses the card into her hand. “The mall opened up a new froyo place recently. You should treat the girls.” Momo pauses in her suggestion. “I hear Tzuyu likes cherry.”

It's the natural order of things, Momo knows as the sophomore nods and turns away to put the card in her own bag, cheeks burning.

 _Help me and I'll help you._ She lifts her gaze and strides over to the rest of the squad. They stall briefly on Mina, her shorts riding up her thighs as she stretches forward with both legs into splits.

Momo shakes her head and addresses them as a whole, voice ringing across the gym.

 _“Up._ Time for suicides, and girls, if you haven't been putting in work outside practice, the name will feel poetic soon.”

  
  
  
  
  


Her oxfords clack against the polished white floors of the east wing, steps quickening in pace when she ducks a head into the wrong room. Nayeon sucks air through her teeth, remembers the call about the transfer to the other side of the corridor -

“Skipping practice, Nayeon?”

A boy with an easy smile approaches her with a clipboard in his hand, pen tapping against the stack of papers pressed into them.

“I bet you didn't even sign in,” he adds cheerfully. He flips the clipboard over, his too big volunteer jacket swishing as he moves, and Nayeon scowls, taking it and signing on the first available line.

“For your information,” she tells him, handing it back over, impatience in every edge of her tone, “I have straight A’s.”

“And I’m very proud of you,” he chimes, tucking the board under his arm and tilting his head. The blond boy watches her look over his shoulder without a trace of subtlety, rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully. “It's just a sprain. She's napping now. The physician has already taken a look at her, but I suspect you were told that over the phone.”

Nayeon exhales sharply, and he steps off to the side, gesturing her to follow.

“I'll take you to her new room,” he offers his arm to her, then, “I snuck her extra jello cups earlier, the orange ones she likes.”

He leaves her once he leads her the right way, promising privacy after checking the chart against the bed and telling her the next nurse to come in wouldn't be for awhile later. Nayeon thanks him, like she always does, and he shakes his head - doesn't say it's nothing, because it is something - and closes the door quietly behind him.

She sinks into the nearest available seat, reaching for a soft hand weathered by time and illness. The steady beat of a heart monitor filter through the silence like music in a too quiet room, and the hand in hers squeezes back. Nayeon leans forward, pressing her cheek against the hospital sheets and lets her eyes drift shut.

She reminds herself to breathe.

  
  
  
  
  


“Let me help you.”

Momo takes note of the flash of surprise and recognition that passes in Mina's eyes, reaching for the pom poms in her hands and placing them inside the bin the squad uses to store their equipment. The other girl nods gratefully. “Thanks.”

She falls into step with Mina, picking up the cones off the shiny gym floor one by one. “You know, you don't have to do this,” she adds, looking over her shoulder to confirm it's just the two of them here. “It's supposed to be JV's responsibility to put away everything."

Momo uses her free hand to rub at the back of her neck with a wry thought about that Son Chaeyoung. She’d told her to get rid of the girls as soon as practice was over. Abandoning their usual chores technically worked.

It's a little regretful, though; Momo wanted to have this conversation in the lockers, preferably near or in the showers.  
  
"Just because I’m on varsity doesn't mean I don't have something to prove, too," Mina tells her, effectively cutting off the visual in her head. “Besides, they might have just forgotten after their collective near death experience.” She eyes Momo shrewdly. 

“If it's not bleeding or broken, they don't need to stop,” she counters defensively. JV was always dramatic.

Mina snorts. “I also heard them talking about a dance? They mentioned shopping, and far be it for me to stop a flock of fourteen to sixteen year olds from that.”  
  
Momo doesn't correct her right away, chewing her bottom lip at the way the other girl sounds so flippant. Insofar as school dances, they’ve only had the back to school dance that had been held during the second week. But that was a month ago and it was still too early to think about homecoming for someone who isn't Nayeon - she thinks of the girl at lunch earlier today - though now that Momo thinks about it, she hadn't seen Mina there.  
  
Or any of the after parties after Friday night football games. Mina shows up to perform with the rest of the squad every practice and every game, and then disappears. Momo hasn't seen her anywhere she didn't have to be or was otherwise required.  
  
"Does that mean you're not going?"  
  
Mina busies herself with stacking the small orange cones neatly before bringing them over to the bin. Momo doesn't think she's seen their equipment bin look this organized in the history of ever.  
  
"To the dance?”  
  
"It’s actually a charity ball,” explains Momo, gauging the dark haired girl’s reaction. “We co-host with some of the other schools.”  
  
Mina sighs. "Why are you asking? Is Nayeon going to make it mandatory for all squad members?" She eyes the co-captain critically. “Don't think I don't know what you're doing.”  
  
Momo puffs out her cheeks, managing to look indignant through the mild racing of her pulse, but Mina looks up from counting the supplies to stare at her head on.  
  
_"'I was quiet, but I was not blind,’ "_  she says flatly.  
  
“Mansfield Park,” Momo recognizes instantly, "Respectful, if not a little overrated." She pauses. "Look, it was just a question," she holds her palms out in a gesture of good faith. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to ask you questions outside pertaining to Lit class."  
  
Mina breaks eye contact first. “I've just noticed I'm still on the squad and not lying in a ditch somewhere on Im property.”  
  
“Well, Nayeon wouldn't be stupid enough to kill you and bury you on her land, for one,” Momo coughs a laugh. She takes in Mina's expression, the carefulness of it, and adds: “You're on the squad because you're good enough to be. And in case you overlooked this glaring fact, Nayeon and I aren't the same person.”  
  
When Mina still doesn't look convinced, Momo heaves a sigh of her own.  
  
“I'm obviously taller and better looking, come on. Have you seen my legs?” she asks, beaming when the other girl finally smiles.

 _“‘A great man is always willing to be little,’”_ the girl says like she's been chastising her for years, and Momo thinks she hasn't ever found anyone quite like Mina who can scold her with Emerson and be cute while doing it.  
  
“A lovely quote,” Momo quirks a brow, “We should tell Jackson.”  
  
This time Mina actually bursts out with laughter, slapping her on the arm and she rubs at it after, pretending it hurt.  
  
"You're awful," Mina says.  
  
"Unabashedly," Momo agrees, "but you laughed."  
  
Mina looks up at her, the lights of the gym reflecting off her eyes and she tilts her head in a way that has Momo gripping the edge of the bin tight.  
  
“I’m busy,” admits Mina, eyes drifting down at the floor and then back up, lower lip worried by her teeth. "So I can't go, even if I wanted to."  
  
"With what?"  
  
Mina shakes her head. "Wouldn't you like to know, Hirai." The lilt of her voice is teasing, and if this isn't flirting Momo will give up her entire inheritance on the spot.  
  
"I happen to love mysteries," she shoots back. Mina only delicately lifts a brow in return.  
  
"Favorite mystery novelist?"  
  
"Holmes," Momo answers, taking genuine offense when the other girl scoffs and rolls her eyes. "What?"  
  
"Cliche of you," Mina bites the inside of her cheek, a poor attempt at hiding a smile. Momo's too busy being affronted to notice this time.  
  
“You quoted Jane Austen,” she argues, feeling more flustered when Mina holds a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Hey, stop that - I read.”  
  
Mina lowers her hand, accepting that. “I know,” she says, “I've noticed.”

“Oh yeah?” Momo takes a step forward, just as Mina takes a step back. Push and pull, she thinks in her head. Push and pull. “What else?”  
  
Mina doesn't bite. She raises her hand to the watch on the wrist instead, checking the time. "That I'm going to be late for dinner if I don't rush home," she replies, wheeling the bin toward Momo until she stops it short of just crushing her with a small _oof._ Oops. “And that I actually don't have the key to the storage room to put this back, but the co-captain probably would, right?”  
  
Momo watches the swish of Mina's skirt against her legs as she leaves, shaking her head and thinking she could swear on the other girl’s playfulness based just on the echo of her laugh.

  
  
  
  
  


Upon the sight of her, Nayeon says, “No offense - well, maybe a little - but you don't look like you've suffered the fracture like I've been dreaming about, so what are you doing here?”

Mina doesn't take the bait, several beats too late to mask the surprise that colors her face, too. She takes a minute to sweep her hair from underneath her collar and over her olive green jacket, leveling Nayeon with a cautious stare.

“Please don't tell me they let you volunteer,” she replies, eyebrows furrowed as a tiny crease forms between her eyes. “The staff here didn't strike me as the kind to let trust fund kids fill out a chart here and there to write about in college applications as life changing.”

“Cruel,” Nayeon counters, annoyance curling her tongue, “Volunteer work is for the middle class.”

Her frown deepens, mouth parting to retort something, Nayeon’s sure, about unfair hierarchy of class divisions and expectedly like someone who falls on the bottom of the food chain, but instead - instead Mina blinks, looking past her.

“Dahee - Dahee, there you are.”

Mina watches Nayeon stiffen before forcing her delicate features to relax, turning on her heel and reaching forward to hold her hand to the patient’s arm, steadying her. “Mother,” her voice dips into something else, something that makes her tongue curve around the syllables - more gentle than Mina’s ever seen. “Mother,” Nayeon says again, lower but firmer, too. “ - I insist, your ankle -”

“Dahee, you haven't lived if you don't suffer a bump or bruise every now and then,” the woman waves her off with a scoff. There are deep smile lines etched at the edges of her eyes and mouth - _happy wrinkles,_ her father would tell her, Mina thinks. She turns to Mina, and she startles. “I don't believe I've seen you around before.”

She sinks into a low bow, coming up with only a small wince. “Hello, ma’am,” offers Mina hesitantly, briefly locking eyes with Nayeon. As much of a reader as she is, she can't make sense of the other girl’s expression, can't find decipherable language in the shadow cast over her eyes and the flat line of her mouth. She bows again, a short nod this time, just to be safe. “I’m - Mina.”

The older woman looks amused at her slight pause. “Well, Mina,” she intones, “how about a game of mahjong?”

Nayeon grimaces. “We’ll meet you inside in a minute,” she promises eyes flitting between the other two, adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder before she adds, “try not to cheat this time.”

There's a line about not needing to cheat to beat her daughter breezily mumbled, but as soon as the woman - Nayeon’s mother - shuffles back into the room she’d stepped out of, the other girl takes the few paces it takes to reach Mina and squeezes her wrist in a vice grip.

“Ow - _stop_ \-  I’m not a flight risk,” Mina declares boldly, pulling her arm back and rubbing at her skin with her other hand. “I’m not the _devil,_ I’m not going to bail on a - ”

“On a what?” Nayeon is as sharp as a blade, eyes flashing as she takes another step toward her. “On a _what,_ Mina?”

Though, true to everything Nayeon’s seen about the girl so far, Mina doesn't back down. She squares her jaw and doesn't so much as flinch. Her nostrils flare a little when she's irritated, Nayeon notices, mind on a constant loop of all their previous encounters and how this is nothing new, but the time and place can make all the difference. For the first time, Nayeon isn't in her element, battleground unstable enough to make her hesitant, and she doesn't know _what_ she’d call it.

“A patient,” finishes Mina quietly, “because as I’m sure you've caught on, I didn't exactly expect to see you here, either.”

Common ground, maybe.

Her eyes flicker toward the room that holds Nayeon’s relative, considers the feeling like a heavy handed key has been pressed to her palm to something that looks a lot like one of Im Nayeon’s dirty little secrets.

“I was visiting my brother,” Mina says. Tit for tat - this is not the way she wants to win the girl’s games.

“Is this the part of the novel where you're expecting me to warm up to you?” Nayeon scoffs.

“No,” Mina replies, sincerity ringing in her tone, “I’d actually prefer if you didn't.” She sidesteps past her, brushing against her to enter the room first.

And - because Nayeon reads, too, okay, she's just not as poetic reciting it as Momo or annoying as Mina parroting it - she just thinks to herself:

_If the truth shall kill them, let them die._

  
  
  
  
  


Momo wouldn't call herself _privileged_ with the amount of connections at her disposal, per se, just resourceful.

“Sooooo… what’s good here?”

Mina looks up with a sigh she’d held in as soon as the girl walked in. Momo tries to get a better look at her by folding her arms over against the glass of the sneeze guard, which she wants to say is dirty, but she’d wiped it down just five minutes ago. Unfortunately.  

“Momo,” she greets, looking over her shoulder as though her manager isn't sitting in the back office engrossed in the latest saga of a comic book. She tosses her head in case her hair is sticking to her face, her hair thrown in a messy bun. “It's October.”

“That doesn't look like it’s on the menu,” replies Momo, scanning the small labels of available flavors stuck onto the glass. She glances up, nose scrunching and giving away the laugh she keeps tucked into her chest for now. “What's your favorite?”

Mina quirks an eyebrow. “In fall,” she says flatly, “the affogato offered by the coffee shop next door.”

“Sophisticated,” nods Momo sagely, without missing a beat, “I'll take the chunky monkey, and don’t feel the need to be conservative with the chocolate.” And then, before the other girl can ask: “Jeongyeon told me you worked here.”

She watches Mina scoop ice cream into a paper cup. The dark haired girl avoids her eyes and when she speaks next, it’s terse.

“I guess I was too optimistic to think you and Nayeon don't have the entire squad in your back pocket.”

Momo frowns finally, an uncharacteristic tug pulling at the corners of her mouth. Mina makes the mistake of glancing up once before firmly looking away.

“And I guess you still think that Nayeon’s pulling the strings here,” Momo pauses, “and that I didn't come to see you just because I wanted to.”

Mina stills for a second - just a quick one - before sliding the cup with a small pink spoon her way.

“How am I supposed to believe that when everything you say sounds like a line?” she asks skeptically, but her eyes squint a little as she meets Momo’s gaze - like she's still deciding, and Momo will take whatever silver lining she can get. “Cash or card?”

She offers her credit card, but holds on when Mina tugs at it to take from her.

 _“‘I have hands made of guard rails and a train station heart; it is full of strangers always trying to get somewhere else. It's not a final destination.’”_ Momo exhales quietly, letting the card slip through her fingers. _“‘I don't ever want to hold you back from where you're trying to get to.’”_

“I just want to talk.”

Mina taps the plastic against the counter - _tap, tap, tap_ \- filling the silence between them. “I haven't heard that one before,” she admits softly, before sliding the card through and handing it back to her.

She nods, careful. There’s trying, and then there’s overstepping.  “It's nice.”

And instead of agreeing - before she can talk herself out of it - Mina asks: “What do you want to know?”

“Hmm.” Momo tilts her head to the right, then to the left. She peers at the other girl a little closely before taking a step back, thoughtful; she grins. “Favorite color?”

Mina raises an eyebrow, but for the first time, something not unlike a smile touches her lips, and if this isn’t progress she doesn’t know what is. “Maroon.”

“And your deepest, darkest secret?” Momo asks next.

“Sometimes,” Mina starts, glancing down before watching the other girl’s face, a guarded smile on her lips, “I give people free refills when they spend too much time talking and not eating.”

Momo suddenly thinks to remember her ice cream order on the counter between them, half melted, as Mina reaches for a new cup.

  
  
  
  
  


“Red’s a good color on you,” Mark tells her first, something that isn't A) lewd or B) an inquiry about doing lines back in the limo, but still Momo eyes him over her vanity and says:

“I’m going to have to talk with security if they let you in,” and the male scoffs, tucking his hands in the inside of his pockets. Not a hair out of place.

She's almost impressed.

Mark checks his watch. “Will you be done soon? My dad is one of the people being honored tonight,” he shrugs. Philanthropy. Whatever. “I can't be late or arrive looking fucked.” He pauses. “Unless - ”

“Just a second,” Momo cuts him off because he can finish his sentence, too busy adjusting her earrings to notice Mark glancing over the set of oil paints in her room.

“I didn't know you took up painting.”

Momo stands, straight backed, but she doesn't look at him. “I didn't,” she says, and Mark hesitates a second too long for her to be comfortable with. He offers her his arm anyway.

“Come on, we’re meeting everyone there.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Excuse me.”

The volunteer turns, surprised when she holds up the clipboard for visitors checking in.

“Mina, thank you,” the woman smiles at her warmly, taking the stack of papers back, “I must have left it lying around. Are you leaving for the night?”

“Yes, that's right.” Mina likes this volunteer. She's kind and considerate - during her early morning shifts. “Are you taking someone's shift this evening? I don't think I normally see you at this hour.”

The woman nods. “The boy that volunteers with the nurses at this time had to go somewhere. A school dance?” she shakes her head. “I’m not sure, but you have a nice night, okay?”

“Wait.” Mina calls for her at the last second, teeth worrying her lower lip. “Um, regarding visitors… are those the only sheets from this week for this floor?”

At the woman’s confirmation, Mina offers a chagrined smile.

“I just thought I saw my friend’s name when I glanced at it,” she rubs the back of her neck, eyebrows furrowed, “but it was her nickname, so I’m not sure…?” Mina looks up at the woman with a small frown now.

“The hospital requires legal names only when signing in or out.”

“That's what I thought,” Mina smiles a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, “Thanks anyway. Have a good one.”

  
  
  
  
  


At the clink of her flute of champagne against the other girl’s, Nayeon takes a well deserved drink.

“As much as I love the excuse to get away from Mark and Jackson talking play by plays,” she raises an eyebrow, amusement tugging at her lips, “what’s the occasion?”

“I just wanted to say I appreciate the opportunity to be on the squad again,” Sana answers, taking a sip of her own drink. “I still feel bad about leaving to  - ”

“France, Sana,” Nayeon finishes for her, not unkindly, which is about as kind as she gets around one of Momo’s exes, probably. “Aside from being slightly jealous I hadn't done it myself, I can't be mad at you for it when you haven't exactly been slacking since you came  back.”

She raises her flute. “I might be a little mad if you hooked up with nobility. Unless...” she trails off, an edge to her tone that has the other girl lapsing in better judgement for just long enough to glance back at Momo sandwiched between Jackson and Mark.

Sana flushes under the glowing lights of the ballroom, but shakes her head.

“No. It was great, she was great, but I’m not a fan of - ” Sana wets her lips, eyes darting from her cheer captain to something behind her. “Complications.”

Nayeon is careful.

“What does that mean?”

Exceedingly so, even as she follows Sana’s line of sight when the other girl inclines her head, gesturing her to look. And at the entrance stands Mina, gaze searching. Sana stares into the bubbles of her champagne with a humorless smile.

“Just that if I had to guess,” Sana finishes, voice light but heavy in implication, “you and Mina-sshi have more in common than you think.”

  
  
  
  
  


The flash catches her off guard.

“Sorry,” a boy with messy blond hair lowers his camera, an easy smile mirroring the way his eyes form crescents. “I’d have warned you, but that always looks more awkward than not.”

Mina’s eyes squint, adjusting to the soft lighting that cloaks everything in the room in a warm glow. He tilts his head at her, a shadow cast against the curve of a sharp jaw.

“You're - ”

“Brian,” he bows his head, raising his eyebrows minutely, suggesting he knows what she was about to say. “It’s nice to meet you.” He motions to the camera in his hands. “I was supposed to cover you a few weeks ago for the article on the squad’s new members this year, but I was sick that day.”

It's brief, but Brian catches her confused look - and to Mina’s surprise, he laughs.

“Didn't know we went to the same school, did you?” he teases in a friendly manner, the kind that means no insult even if she does feel a little bad. “That's okay. You've barely been here and you're already on Nayeon’s list. I’d find you more interesting than me, too.”

Mina doesn't miss how easily Brian says Nayeon’s name, and she meets his gaze head on, curious. “So you're on the school newspaper?” she asks, “Or… yearbook?”

Brian hums in affirmation. “Both,” he nods, “I’m on a journalism scholarship.” He pauses. “Nice outfit, by the way. Sticking it to the system.”

She glances down to her clothes - a dark dress she had already been wearing, paired with boots and a long coat. Mina looks back at Brian.

“It wasn't planned,” she frowns, “and I’m not trying to make a statement. I’m only here because - ” She stops when she realizes she doesn't really have an answer for him. Why is she here?

“I’m just,” Mina shakes her head, “I just want to fit in, and the more I try, the more I feel like I don't belong.”

“Well,” Brian replies after a long pause, and she finally notices his slacks and simple button down, rolled to the sleeves and slightly wrinkled, “that's the secret, isn't it? No one does.”

_“Jackson!”_

It's Nayeon, Mina recognizes right away, ringing across the ballroom, but suddenly there's a _crash_ away from the direction of her voice and Mina doesn't know she's running until Brian catches up with her and tells her to stand back.

He lifts Momo to her feet among the spilled tableware, careful around broken glass before letting go and pushing at the chests of both boys who had flown into the table in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Mina asks Momo, reaching for her as the girl groans and mumbles a _“peachy”_ that sounds anything but. Momo blinks through a wince.

“Hey, you came,” she brightens, despite the pain that ripples through her face at any motion, “it was because of what I left in the tip jar, right?”

Mina smiles despite herself. “Twenty bucks and your number,” she bites the inside of her cheek, soft with both affection and worry, “Suave of you.”

Momo grins back, attention diverted only when Nayeon rushes upon all of them - the first thing she does shoving at Jackson, fire in her eyes despite the calm royal blue of her dress.

“Don't touch him,” she seethes, positioning herself in front of Brian, and then: “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“You know him?” Jackson glowers, rubbing at his jaw and glancing back and forth between Nayeon and Brian. “Who - never mind, I wasn't fighting him, _and I didn't see Momo - ”_

Nayeon, to her credit, doesn't even flinch as her eyes travel from him to the suit behind Brian, a face she recognizes from the nearby arts focused charter school. Her jaw tightens.

“You did this over some half-baked SM kid that probably jerks off to Edvard Munch and calls it postmodernist technique on a modernist inspiration?”

She takes a step back, surveying the damage, the hushed crowd watching them.

“Get out,” orders Nayeon, quiet but the loudest yet, “before you make yourself a bigger embarrassment than you already are.”

She doesn't look long enough to see if he listens, turning as her gaze falls on Mina and Momo and most importantly, the bruise that's beginning to form around her right eye.

Brian steps forward first, eyeing all three.

“I'll find a bathroom.”

  
  
  
  
  


Momo is not entirely certain she’ll be the only one leaving with a black eye between them.

“Be careful,” Nayeon snaps darkly, eyes focused on the hands pressing over Momo’s eye as sits in one of the high sinks.

The other girl doesn't so much as glance back as she runs another paper towel under the tap and returns it to bruised flesh. “I know how to handle this,” Mina retorts after a moment, clipped despite how gently her fingers skim against her face, one hand cupping her jaw as the other tends to her eye.

“You look like the scrappy type,” her best friend assesses scornfully, and Momo musters the effort it takes to roll her eyes and make sure Nayeon sees.

“I’d ask if you’d like to find out,” begins Mina, as sweet as sugar, “but I have the sneaking suspicion you're not the one fighting your own battles.”

“Bae Suzy would beg to differ,” Momo singsongs before Nayeon can answer, through the blood pounding at the base of her skull. She has a headache from crashing into the table, but she knows what a concussion feels like and this isn't it. Mina gives her a look and she shrugs. “Long story.”

Mina sighs, a small exhale of exasperation that's weakened by the slight upwards turn of her mouth. Momo’s too close not to miss it. “Well, maybe I'll get to hear it one day since it looks like you're getting a clean bill of health.” Mina narrows her eyes slightly. “Just uh, no getting in between any more fights, okay?”

Momo makes a pointed glance between Mina and Nayeon. “I make no promises.”

Nayeon looks like she's going to say something to immediately prove her right, but her phone vibrates noisily in her clutch for the seventh time in the past five minutes and she reaches for it to finally just turn it off.

“Not gonna answer him?” Momo prompts.

“I hope he broke his jaw.”

“Super healthy,” Mina mutters under her breath, looking between the pair once they stop to stare at her. She drops her eyes and makes sure the paper towel is still cool to the touch.

“Just go see how he is. I wouldn't put it past him to come in here,” Momo points out. “And the last thing he needs is to look like a pervert on top of a hot head.”

When Nayeon looks conflicted only for a moment, stubborn enough to stay to prove something, Momo add an earnest, _“I’m okay.”_

Something exchanges between the two as they lock gazes, Mina can't help but notice, but whatever it is removes Nayeon of all her sharp edges, leaving her as soft as water when she's as sharp as ice with anyone else.

“Okay,” Nayeon says. “Okay. I'll keep in touch.”

The door swings shut behind her as she leaves, and with it, Mina pulls back slightly. Momo frowns until she sees she's only setting aside the damp paper towels.

“She's a charmer,” Mina presses her palms against the edges of the sink Momo isn't sitting on. “Her and Jackson.”

“Jackson’s a fucking idiot,” agrees Momo with a quiet laugh, “but he has a good heart. Even if I’m still going to knee him in the balls on Monday, I wouldn’t excuse him otherwise.”

Mina doesn't say anything, but her silence is enough of an answer.

“You don't think I’m a good judge of character.”

It's not an accusation so much as it is the truth, and Mina can't say she knows how to deny it. “Can you blame me?”

“She’s a good person,” Momo doesn't yield still, “I know it's hard to see - not just for her, but for a lot of people at our school. It doesn't stop it from being true. They're my friends.” She frowns. “Doesn't that mean something?”

“I know they are,” Mina replies soothingly, but not without a crease between her eyebrows, not without Momo knowing there's something she has yet to decide about her. “And I’m sure you of all people have heard the saying about the company you keep.” A pause. “Even if they recite poetry.”

She swallows, wetting her lips and watching as Mina’s eyes track the movement.

“Are you worried I’m going to hurt you?”

“The opposite, actually,” Mina looks away.

“Well, don't,” and when Mina begins to step back, Momo reaches for her wrist, “I’m a big girl.”

“With a black eye,” Mina answers, her tone quieter than usual. “Is this what your world looks like, Hirai Momo? Not nearly as pretty up close than from far away?”

Momo holds her gaze, their faces close enough to meet. “You tell me.”

She’ll blame it on gravity - the way once she gets close enough to be within pull, there's no going back. There was never going back.

“It’s going to hurt,” Mina murmurs against her mouth, the quiet admission weighed with guilt, barely brushing against her lips. “I’m going to hurt you and I don’t want to."  
  
“That’s okay,” Momo finds herself saying between longer kisses, not a fire but a slow burn that warms her from the inside, expanding and filling like the first embers to catch light, “It’s okay.” Mina breaks apart first, and Momo doesn't know what it is that causes the storm behind her eyes, but she has never been afraid of natural disasters.

“I promise.”

  
  
  
  
  


He's a better person than her, Nayeon thinks as Jackson walks off, more upset than he was before she had approached him. The sum total of his good parts far outweighed her own.

But they were alike, too - the bad parts - and she regrets listening to Momo instead of leaving it to deal with later when they've both distanced themselves from tonight. She watches him go, the line of his shoulders as his chauffeur opens the door to his car.

“So I guess he's not coming to the after party?”

Nayeon waits until the car peels off until she turns. “And where were you earlier, Mark?” she asks.

“Missing all the fun, as it would seem,” the taller male remarks, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. She wrinkles her nose.

“I’m sure you'll have enough fun for everybody.”

She means to turn away, but Mark grabs her elbow to stop her. “I'll drive.”

Nayeon wrenches her arm back. “I should get -”

Mark silences her with a look. “Let it go, Nayeon,” he tells her, almost pleading. “Can you just - can you try?”

  
  
  
  
  


“All I’m saying is that sorbet is a sad man’s ice cream.”

Mina nudges her shoulder as they sit on the curb outside her work. Her coworker is closing up inside and she was lucky their manager hadn't been around to see her cash in on a favor.

“Don't knock my choices, Hirai Momo,” she tucks the plastic spoon into her mouth, letting the taste of strawberry melt on her tongue. “I see you're not as loyal to chunky monkey as you seemed.”

She digs into her own cup - matcha green tea - and shrugs.

“I’m like to think myself as a safe haven for all ice cream flavors to go undiscriminated against,” Momo shoots back without missing a beat, “except sorbet.”

“Of course,” sighs Mina, and then, “I really hate to see you to start losing points already.”

“I think a proper date is required first,” says Momo, leaning over to scoop a bit of sorbet into her mouth.

“Hey!”

Momo drops her spoon into her cup. “For frozen fruit juice masquerading as ice cream,” she holds off on a smile, “not bad. You know, Jeongyeon’s dad is on the academy board. We could get this stuff on the menu.”

“Nepotism,” Mina deadpans, “Cute.”

She laughs, only interrupted by the sound of her cell phone ringing, and Momo can't quite hide the confusion that crosses her features once she gets a look at the caller ID.

“Sana, hey.” She presses the phone harder against her ear as Sana exchanges words with a male in the background of somewhere loud. A Brian. “Yeah, I’m listening…”

  
  
  
  
  


“Where did you go?”

 _Nowhere,_ Momo thinks as she threads her fingers through her hair and exhales. It feels like a piece of her heart is pressing against her lungs, but at the same time where it belongs. _Nowhere,_ she tells herself, recalling the strange look on Mina’s face when she told her to go - to go to Nayeon.

 _For what it's worth, I think you should go,_ the other girl had said, less than an hour after kissing her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Momo finds herself saying, “I'm here now.”

Nayeon burrows into her, wrapping her arms around her middle as Momo tucks a curled lock of hair out of her face.

“Does it hurt?” She hiccups, pulling away to reach for Momo’s face. Her hand curves around her jaw until Momo takes her wrist, sliding their fingers together and touching her lips to the back of Nayeon’s hand.

Momo must know she looks in no better of a state than Nayeon, maybe worse with the bruise settling over her eye, but she still nods, reassuring.

“Less knowing it wasn't you,” she promises, and it's not anything short of the truth. She doesn't know what she’d have done if it were Nayeon.

She's capable, Momo knows. Strong and a force all her own, but here, in a darkened room with her head in Momo’s lap, miserable and drunk, she's - maybe there isn't a word for it. Small, in spite of being the biggest person Momo knows, the girl who parts through crowds like the sea but holds onto her like she's scared she’s going to leave.

What a stupid fear, Momo thinks, unfounded and untrue.

“I’m going to kill him,” Nayeon announces to the room, loudly, like it isn’t just the two of them, “I’ve already decided which pair of heels I’m going to drive through his throat.”

“Not your Jimmy Choos,” Momo plays along in a drawl, careful as she uses the back of her free hand to press against alcohol flushed skin. Nayeon angles her head immediately so Momo ends up cradling her face, and her smile is in her sigh.

“Not those.” A beat. “I was going to wear them next Friday.” Nayeon takes a moment to push herself up on her arms, Momo’s hands hovering over her in case she falls.

It's something to be said, about how even in the dark Nayeon can find her gaze and hold it with nothing more than a look.

“You came,” says Nayeon quietly, “Mark said you wouldn't.”

“A little late,” amends Momo, trying not to think of the boy right now, filing away the things she's going to have to say to him later. “But I wouldn't… not.”

“Double negative,” Nayeon corrects, so Momo can't help but lean forward the few extra inches to bump her forehead against hers.

“Because I’m important to you,” she murmurs like she's asking, only continuing when Momo hums in confirmation, “and you're important. It's together -”

“ - or nothing,” Momo finishes, equally soft. Maybe Momo has only ever found poetry in their playground days because of the way Nayeon has made a gallery out of their lives together. “I remember.”

Nayeon ducks her head against her neck, dropping a kiss against the hollow of her throat.

“I don't want to stay here,” she closes her eyes, her words a sleepy slur, and it's only now she remembers the party outside these four walls around them. “Can we go home, Momo-yah?”

Momo is already on her feet, carefully pulling the other girl upright, looking at Nayeon once she's situated underneath her arm so she's carrying most of their weight.

“Home sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the quote momo says to mina when she visits her at work is a piece by trista mateer!


End file.
